


I just want to stare at your hair

by unicarna



Category: Warehouse 13
Genre: F/F, Light Bondage, Light Dom/sub
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-06-08
Updated: 2012-06-08
Packaged: 2017-11-07 06:54:51
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,761
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/428180
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/unicarna/pseuds/unicarna
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After a night out in Univille, Myka is determined to take control. But with Helena it never happens the way you think. Myka's POV.</p>
            </blockquote>





	I just want to stare at your hair

 

I am dancing to a terrible pop song on a makeshift dance floor at the only pub in Univille. I am never, ever, the one to start a dance floor and yet that is exactly what I have done to the delight of Pete, Claudia and Helena. Stupid, stupid idea. And I am drunk but I should not be. I am only on my second glass of beer and, sure, I do not drink much these days but I am not _this_ easily affected. My legs are unsteady, my cheeks are flushed, my mind in all sorts of irrational places.

I am not stupid though, I know why. But that does not mean I have to like it. Helena knows why too. She is also drunk. Flirty. And why does she have to wear those clothes? They are all clingy and black just like her hair that is _so_ perfect and those heels almost makes her my height so she looks into my eyes all the freaking time and I know what she is thinking and…this has GOT to stop.

Claudia is _really_ drunk, singing along loudly to the music, glass in hand, and I realise that we should probably get her home soon before things get out of hand.

The song ends at last and we sit down. I am relieved; at least that means I do not have to watch Helena moving suggestively to the music anymore. Where did she learn that anyway? I doubt they danced like that a hundred years ago.

She is talking now and I think she is answering Pete’s question about just that but I do not really hear what she is saying. Just that she is talking, eyes sparkling mischievously, cheeks and chest a little flushed. Her voice is like water and fire, calming and exciting me at the same time. She stops talking and frowns a little as she tries to remember something, then continues, “Oh yes, I remember now. It was absinth, and Charles…well, let’s say that he never had a very high tolerance for spirits.”

“I still don’t get how you went from drinking with your _brother_ to having a god damn orgy on a Victorian dance floor!” Claudia waves her hand dangerously close to the glasses on the table so I grab hold of it and place it safely down in her lap.

Wait. What? Orgy? That woman is seriously trying to kill me.

“He fell asleep quickly, and I had happened to notice earlier that a party was going on next door. Those neighbours were of the…frivolous sort, not people you should be seen with in the light of day. But I had always found them to be a more interesting company than the general crowd. And that night surely turned out interesting.”

I am sure it did.

“OK, I’m pressing the pause button here. Dude. Dudettes. The bathroom is calling.” Claudia sounds reasonably focused, but I excuse myself to go with her anyway, seeing an opportunity to get away from Helena’s dangerous smile long enough to recover some kind of composure.

~~

Leaning against the wall outside the bathroom, I take a couple of calming breaths. This is stupid. I should not be this obsessed with H. G. Wells. (That sounds so weird in my head, on so many levels) Is she using an artefact? That must be it. At once I imagine Pete’s voice, “Yeah right, Mykes. That’s what we call denial”. Oh fine, there is no artefact involved here. But it sure as hell feels like it.

And of course, here she comes, sauntering up to me because that is what she does. Raising her eyebrow, smirking, knowing exactly what she is doing to me.

“Are you all right there, darling?”

Oh god, stop calling me darling.

“Yeah, sure, just wanted to wait for Claude, you know, in case she needs support”, I splutter it out because I really cannot get a hold of myself around her right now and it is so…darn…irritating.

She tilts her head, hand on hip, and _looks_ at me the way only she can and my blood is definitely not in my brain anymore. She just stands there, waiting, _knowing_. I close my eyes and bite my lip. Seriously, have I transformed into Pete or something? Lost all control over the cave-man…eh, cave-woman, impulses?

“Myka…look at me.”

And I do that because I cannot say no to her and she damn well knows that and my body is on fire and she draws in a sharp breath because she knows from the way I look at her that I have had enough.

“Dammit, Helena” I grab hold of her arm, covered in that oh so silky and slinky black shirt, and slam her up against the wall beside the bathroom door and press my body against hers so that it touches hers everywhere, because I have _really_ had enough of her teasing.

But I do not kiss her. That is what she wants. Instead I push one of my thighs between her legs without caring if anyone is watching and bury my hand in her impossibly soft hair to push it away from her ear as I whisper,

“I’m going to make you beg tonight.”

Then I back away, feeling way more in control of myself (and of her), enjoying the look of pure hunger in eyes that if possible have turned even darker. I smirk at her slightly parted lips and heaving chest. Gotcha.

I turn around and head back to the table where Pete is sitting. I have still got the smirk on my face and my mind is far, far away from this pub so I do not notice the silence at first. When I do, I look up and see Pete blinking rapidly with a slightly unfocused expression on his face.

“Mykes…” His voice is squeaky and he clears his throat before trying again, “did you just push H.G. up against a wall in a very dirty way?”

Oh. Right. “Umm…yeah. Yeah, I did.”

“Okay. Just checkin’.”

I sigh. This is not the right time to put my feelings into words. “Pete…it’s complicated.”

“It always is, lady-lover.”

Great, here comes the teasing. “We’ll talk later, okay?”

“Sure, lesbozilla. Whatever you say.”

“That’s not funny.”

“No, you’re right, lesbians are _so_ _boring_. Especially when they stare at each other all night so everyone else get infected by that _boring_.”

I punch his arm. “It’s boring _ness_ , Pete. And whatever images you have in your head right now better be gone before you go to bed.”

“Yes, ma’am.” (I love him even when he is this annoying)

Helena returns with Claudia (or is it the other way around?) and we decide it is time to call a cab.

~~

Careful not to lose my temporary advantage, I take care to get into the car right after Helena, pressing our legs together because there is only so much room when three people sit in a back seat. (What? Claudia can use some space on her side) As we leave the streetlights of Univille, I place my hand on the inside of Helena’s thigh, pleased when I hear her drawing in a shaky breath.

Pete is humming the intro to Star Wars in the front seat. I wonder what he really thinks of this…whatever it is. I really need to talk to him later.

That momentary distraction is all it takes for Helena to turn the tables again. She leans in to whisper in _my_ ear (copycat) “Be careful what you wish for, darling”. Her breath is hot and I shiver, my hand on her thigh suddenly too weak to be possessive. My other hand curls into a fist, nails scratching the leather of the car seat. It is really, really silly that she can affect me like this. This night is supposed to be about payback. And I better get myself together before we get home and she takes control, again.

Luckily, or maybe not, the ride is short and the car soon pulls up in front of the B&B. As soon as I get out I take several steps away from Helena, breathing in the cool night air and trying to figure out the best way to get her where I want.

In the corner of my eye, I can see Pete studying me as we walk to the door, Claudia arm in arm with Helena. I try to make my shaking hands find the keys in my pocket.

Then, after declining Pete’s offer of sharing his best midnight snack (nachos, not just grated but _drenched_ in cheese), and ignoring his not-so-subtle remark that I probably have other things toeat, I head up the stairs, very much feeling Helena’s gaze on my body from below. As I enter my room I hear Claudia and Pete joke around loudly in the kitchen, pretending to be robots (probably with pots on their heads). I shake my head. I remove my boots and jacket while my imagination creates _very_ detailed pictures of Helena, naked, needing, begging. Then, moving to close the door, I find it blocked. Well, that was quick.

Predictably, Helena is leaning against the doorframe. “I seem to remember you having certain…plans for tonight, Myka.”

She practically purrs out my name and I know she knows how that makes me feel but I do not react. I can do this.

Smiling knowingly, I say, “Impatient much? I’m just getting ready, wait for me in your room. It’s farther away from the crowd.”

She hesitates for a moment, probably deciding if she should give me this one or not, and then relents. “I’ll be waiting then.”

This is good. It is good, right? She did as I told her to. Now I just need to keep this up.

She leaves and I begin to remove my clothes, decide against it and simply let loose my hair that I have had in a rare ponytail. Clothes are good. I will not stand a chance if I walk in there in a robe. She will get me naked in a heartbeat.

~~

Without knocking, I enter her room. She has lit it with candles and sits in the armchair by the window, pretending to read. She is also fully clothed. Interesting. She obviously has no intention of letting me have my way with her. But I will.

She looks up, completely composed. “Hello, gorgeous.”

“Hey.”

I walk up to her, holding her gaze. Ignoring the feeling of being dragged in. I _choose_ to take these steps. By myself.

I move to stand behind the chair, feeling rather than seeing her tense in anticipation of my next move. I lean down and move her beautiful hair to one side, breathing hot air on the exposed neck. Then, in sudden inspiration, I bite at it gently. But not too gently. She whimpers and I almost lose control at the sound. I _need_ to kiss her. Instead I let my tongue sweep over the reddening skin before I bite at it once more. I alternate between licking, biting and blowing hot air, ignoring that the sounds she is making feel like a drug in my system.

Then _I_ am suddenly pressed up against a wall and I have no idea how she managed to rise and get me there so quickly. But I do not really care, as her mouth is on mine – hot, wet, her tongue possessing me in a way that must be illegal somewhere. I grab her hips, pushing her against me, between my legs. Her hands are everywhere on me and all I want is for them to be there all the time and I am moaning now and, “Oh god, Helena, I want you”. The words escape me before I can stop them. Fuck. This is not going my way.

“I know.” She speaks into my mouth, barely breaking the kiss.

Okay. It is time to wash away some of that smugness (which is one of the things I love about her, but I will never tell her that. She knows anyway.)

I remove her hands from my breasts and hold them away from me as I push her towards the bed. She falls down on it and then I am on top of her and move her arms above her head, holding them in place by the wrists, wishing I had a pair of handcuffs to make sure she cannot touch me like _that_.

“Oh, my.” I can see that she enjoys my roughness and if I released her she would probably play along submissively, at least for a while. But I do not; I am determined to make her lose control like this and I will not take any risks.

I look around and smile when I see that the band of black silk she may possibly have used to blindfold me once is still tied to one of the bedposts. Her body is way too warm against mine as I tie her wrists together and then to the post. It is no match against a directed pull, and even less so for Helena who can get out of almost any type of restraint in a few seconds, but I hope the feeling of being tied up will be enough. Judging from the way she looks at me now, she is starting to realise that I am serious about not letting her take control tonight. And she is not sure what she thinks about that, yet.

With Helena safely tied up, I rise from the bed and simply watch her for a moment. Thinking about my next move. She looks back at me, silently amused, but the shallow breathing and licking of lips tell me she is _so_ ready for whatever I am going to do to her. I love that I can affect her like this. It almost makes up for the way she had me wrapped around her little finger at the pub. Almost.

Deciding to take this power game a little further, I start to undress slowly; so aware of even the subtlest reactions she has to this. There are a million buttons on my shirt but at last I finish and let it fall open, pleased at the slight parting of her lips.

I remove my pants, perhaps not as gracefully, and stand in front of her in a black bra and matching panties. She holds me with a burning gaze, hardly blinking.

Then, smiling innocently, I let one of my hands caress their way down my stomach until it is resting on the fabric between my legs. As it lands there I realise how very, very wet I am. Helena tries really hard not to react, I can tell by the clenching of her jaw, but as I touch myself she presses her legs together, hips bucking slightly. (I want to taste her)

~~

I slip a hand inside my panties and I am even wetter than I thought. My breath quickens and Helena bites her lip as I pleasure myself. It is suddenly difficult to stand and I remove my hand, pulling down the panties in the process, and take off my bra because it is just _too warm_ in here. Helena is still fully clothed, uncomfortable, cheeks so flushed she almost looks feverish.

I straddle her without putting pressure where she wants me to. I quickly unbutton her shirt, practically tearing it off, and make short work of removing her pants because I am really getting impatient now. I want to feel her skin. The underwear takes the same route – off, away – and she is gloriously naked under me and, okay, maybe I just have to let our bodies touch properly now because why would that ever be a bad idea?

Our legs entwine spontaneously and I feel her wetness against my thigh, as I cannot help but move against hers. Her breasts slide against mine and we fit so well together that it is almost unreal and we both moan now and…

I am on my back. Huh. She did not. She did.

And she smiles the most wicked smile I have ever seen and then I do not really think at all because she is inside me and kissing my neck at the same time. I cannot stop this even if I really want to (liar) and my betraying hips buck against her hand and one of my hands grab hold of the sheets while the other probably makes marks on her back. There is a pounding sound and I am not sure if it is my heart or the headboard moving against the wall, or both, and she slows down, curl her fingers to find that perfect spot and picks up the pace again and then everything shatters and I lose myself. (In the best way)

~~

When I can breathe again, she kisses me and I let her.

“Helena…”

“Yes?”

“You cheated.”

“No”, she insists. “I changed the rules.”

“Yeah, whatever.” I shake my head but I smile at the same time and cannot really be angry with her because she is…Helena. (And I love her but I have not told her yet)

“You can tie me up again if you like.”

I study her expression. “You want me to?”

She almost looks sheepish. “Yes.”

I kiss her again, feeling her tremble against me. We kiss for a while and I am impressed by her restraint. She waits for me to take charge despite _needing_ so much. I turn us gently around so that I am lying on top and she is so beautiful in that moment that I just stop to look at her, and it feels like I am looking into her soul.

“Turn around”, I demand quietly, moving to the side.

She lies down on her stomach, eyes filled with anticipation as she looks at me over her shoulder. I tie her up again, forcing her arms to stretch out above her head. I keep _looking_ at her. The pale skin, the black hair – now slightly unruly – that spills out over her back and the sheets, the occasional freckle, the sensual curve where back meets buttocks. The way she cannot really stay still; she is moving, ever so slightly, against the mattress. (My chest constricts because she is so perfect)

I suddenly want to be so much gentler than she expects me to be right now. I want to kiss my way down her back, give her a massage, worship her body with feathers. But this is not about my pleasure, it is about hers. So I scratch my fingers down her back instead, watching the red lines with fascination (and a little regret).

She arches her back, making it impossibly more inviting, and I find myself lying down on top of her, biting at her neck again and rolling my hips in time with hers. I bring my hands in under her body and caress her breasts, pinching her nipples harder than I usually do and she moans then, a deep guttural sound that makes me forget I just came.

Then I move from her as if it is the easiest thing in the world (but it fucking hurts) and sit back on the bed, listening to her heavy breathing and waiting.

And waiting.

I am a little disappointed that she can still stop herself from begging. (Not really, I like the challenge)

I wait a little longer as her breathing slows down slightly. Finally, she turns her head as much as she can in that awkward position and begs me with her eyes. (I let out my breath in a rush at her wanton expression) But asking with her eyes is not enough. I want words.

So I reach out and caress her back, down over her buttocks and then easily slip inside. So easily. She lies with her head to the side, eyes closed, biting her lip to stop herself from moaning. She does not really succeed. I thrust into her a few times, slowly. Then I remove my fingers and sit back again.

She breathes in, face full of frustration. She watches me again as I taste her on my fingers and lick my lips, suddenly very aware of the throbbing between my legs. (I am enjoying this way more than I thought I would)

I enter her again, this time slipping my other hand between her body and the mattress, rubbing in time with my thrusts.

“Oh god.” Her tied hands fight themselves into fists. Now we are getting somewhere.

When I remind myself to pull out again, she is _so_ close. And I lock eyes with her and touch myself, and when she finally begs me to continue in an unsteady voice none of us can really say who is in control of this.

I move inside her again, faster now, and somehow we manage to kiss each other in this position and then she is clenching around me while tremors run through her body and she is whimpering loud enough for it to carry through the walls. (But this is so worth the teasing in the morning)

~~

I stay inside, worshipping her back with kisses until she pulls at the restraint, needing her hands but not having the strength to free herself. I untie the knots, moving to kiss the red marks on her wrists, but she turns around to wrap her arms around me and pull me on top of her. Her hands roam over my back and I close my eyes briefly at the sensation. When I open them again I am met with a completely content expression that makes me smile, and then she buries her hands in my curls and kisses me deeply. My head spins and my heart is pounding. (I feel so much)

She pulls away. 

“Myka, I…” She hesitates.

There is a look of adoration and vulnerability on her face that I realise she only ever wears in moments like this, with me. And I know that look is mirrored in my own expression. But I think we are both scared to put all this into words, to define something that is perhaps better left to define itself a while longer. So instead of asking her to continue, I cover her cheek with my hand, caressing it with my thumb, and say softly, “I know.”

(And it is enough)

~~FIN~~


End file.
